Mary Boyfield

How beautiful the summer night
When birds roost on the mossy tree
When moon and stars are shining bright
And home has gone the weary bee
Then Mary Boyfield seeks the glen
The white awe-thorn and grey oak tree
And nought but heaven can tell me then
How dear thy beauty is to me.


Dear is the dew-drop to the flower
The old wall to the weary bee
And silence to the evening hour
And ivy to the stooping tree
Dearer than these than all beside
Than blossoms to the moss rose tree
The maid who wanders by my side
Sweet Mary Boyfield is to me —


Sweet is the moonlight on the tree
The stars above the glassy lake
That from the bottom look at me
Through shadows on the crimping brake
Sweet are such things but sweeter still
Than these and all beside I see
The maid to whom I mean no ill
Dear Mary Boyfield is to me.


O Mary with the dark brown hair
The rosey cheek the beaming eye
I would thy shade was ever there
Then never more I'd grieve or sigh
I love thee Mary dearly love
There's nought so fair on earth I see
There's nought so dear in heaven above
As Mary Boyfield is to me.
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